


From Green to Cinders

by SimpleLampshade



Category: Wicked - Schwartz/Holzman
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Cinderella, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Chaptered, F/F, F/M, Pantomime AU, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-27
Updated: 2014-12-27
Packaged: 2018-03-03 21:49:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2889134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SimpleLampshade/pseuds/SimpleLampshade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The story runs just as it should; Cinderella will go to the ball. The Prince will find his true love. Everyone will live Happily Ever After. But things just don't seem...right. Will the characters of this Pantomime realise what's wrong with their world? Or will everything end at the stroke of Midnight?</p>
            </blockquote>





	From Green to Cinders

**_Scene One_ **

_She was dancing. Every night she danced. Dancing in an endless waltz of extravagance and glittering lights. Very often she would forget the Prince’s face in the morning. If, indeed, he even had a face to begin with. She would remember only that he was handsome, and delightfully charming. She would forget how exactly the ballroom had appeared. Only that it was grand. The tiny little details of dress (pretty) and location and populace (adoring) seemed unimportant to her. Every dream was a whirl of glitter and excitement, and she clung to it eagerly._

_It was magical. And most of all, it was her magic. Hers alone. And she was sure of that most of all._

Cinderella rose at dawn. She always had, for as long as she could remember. The chirping of sweet little birds at her window was, she thought, the _perfect_ way to rouse herself. It reminded her of all the cheeriness in the world; the simple sweet joys waiting just outside the confines of her tower bedroom. The unkind could call Cinderella simple. But she _liked_ that. Happiness was simple, so why shouldn’t she be, too?

She kicked away the blankets, pulled back the shutters, and greeted the morning outside with a wide smile. Then she made her bed.

As a rule, her Stepsisters never rose before 10, and Cinderella’s Stepmother rarely showed her face past her bedroom door. And so for a good few hours after dawn, Cinderella was free to do as she pleased. She had her chores, and she had their dreadfully awful manner to contend with later. But the Kitchen was her place. It was a little corner of peace against her Stepfamilies’ Wickedness. Cinderella had taught herself to say hello each new day with every inch of positive cheerfulness. She knew, she just _knew_ , that with enough kindness and hard _work,_ she would find happiness.

…She wasn’t sure entirely _where_ she had learnt that, or exactly where she would find it. But she knew it. She knew it as well as she knew that her hair was blond, and that the sky was blue, and that there would always be pretty little birds singing at her window. _That_ was proven fact!

Cinderella washed her face in the water pump at the back of the house, tied a fresh pinny about her waist, and got to work busily with a dustpan and broom. The courtyard needed sweeping, the fireplace had to be lit, the cutlery polished, the ovens cleaned. And there was kindling to gather from the woods before dark. Never did Cinderella’s morning routine differ from one day to the next. She sang as she worked, she sang as he brought water from the well, and she sang as he swept.

At precisely 9:00 Cinderella turned and, on cue, smiled brightly at the kitchen door. It remained closed, and for a good 30 seconds, nothing happened. Even the clock’s tick seemed to stop. Slowly, Cinderella’s smile began to fade. For the first time all morning, she frowned. Carefully she set down the broom, marched up to the door, and, with exaggerated care, beamed at it again. Nothing happened. Cinderella glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece.

It was three past nine! Where _was_ he?

He was _supposed_ to be here. He was here, on time, on the dot, _every day_. Although it was a trivial thing, and Cinderella told herself—with her usual brightness—that really, she had no reason to be cross at him. Really, she should be worried. Still she was. It just felt…all wrong. Like that nasty feeling she awoke with after a nightmare. It was how things worked! This really wasn’t like him at _all!_

At ten past nine the door swung open, and a young man staggered in. He was dressed, as all the house’s servants were, in the red and yellow livery of the Hardup family. The strap of a garish pillbox hat pressed tightly against his chin. The chevrons on his shoulders shone in the morning sunlight.

“Oh, Buttons!” said Cinderella primly, bending down to retrieve her broom. “There you are!” She did not sound pleased. She didn’t _feel_ pleased.

Buttons looked every bit as guilty as Cinderella did annoyed. One might have thought he had accidentally kicked one of the chickens on his way in, rather than arrived a few minutes late. And just like her, his fear seemed tinged with an odd confusion. He hastily straightened his hat, flattening the little flick of fringe poking out at the front.  
“Hello Cinders!” he replied, as brightly as he could.

Cinderella swept the broom across the hearth, moving the dust from place to place. This was how she always cleaned, and wouldn’t see it done in any other way. “You’re late.” she said disapprovingly. Buttons nodded, the tips of his ears reddening. He was never usually so nervous; Cinderella thought him the most cheerful and unabashed of all her dearest friends. But she still found herself annoyed, and so only watched as he sunk down at the table.

Buttons yawned. Cinderella saw that one of his cuffs was unrolled. Buttons seemed to have missed a button hole as he dressed this morning, and his hat was still sitting askew. Feeling a small surge of sisterly affection, Cinderella abandoned her annoyance and crossed the kitchen to set about tidying him up. Her help always seemed to cheer Buttons immensely. It was another one of those facts Cinderella simply _knew._

“And you do look _very_ tired.” She added, as she carefully rebuttoned his coat. Buttons winced, but nodded all the same. He rubbed at his forehead.

“I had...a really odd dream!” he said, in the manner of one imparting a terrible secret. This wasn’t what they _usually_ spoke about every morning.

“Oh!” Cinderella gasped suddenly, clapping her hands against her mouth before Buttons could continue. She spun gracefully on her heel, eyes wide. “You as well, Buttons? Because I’ve been having the _strangest_ dreams too!”

Buttons’ eyes widened hopefully. “You have?” he said.

“Oh yes!” Cinderella swept towards him. The broom in her hand trailed out ahead like a willowy dance partner. “About a Prince, and…and a ball! And it’s so _beautiful_. And we dance all night!” She paused, feeling a sudden jab of crossness. “ _You_ haven’t been having the same dream, have you Buttons? Because that would be awfully funny!”

“N-no! I mean- “ Buttons cast a surreptitious glance about the kitchen before slipping from his stool and sidling up to her. “Do you ever get the feeling you’re…uh…well...being watched?” He whispered. Cinderella stared at him.

“Oh Buttons!” she giggled, and patted his shoulder, “You are _silly!”_

Just as she couldn’t recall him ever being nervous, Cinderella couldn’t remember Buttons ever being this serious before. She thought his face looked every bit as funny as the thought of him dancing at a ball. She frowned prettily, and wondered if she should tell him.

“Well!” Buttons grinned brightly all of a sudden. That made Cinderella feel very much better indeed; this was how things were _supposed_ to be. She liked to see him cheerful! “I think I can help you with your dream, Cinders!”

Reaching inside his coat, Buttons pulled out a bundle of envelopes. There were four in total, each one embossed with thick golden lettering and coloured a rich royal purple. He held them out to her, his look of sleep-deprived worry transformed into a wide grin. “Look at these!”  
Cinderella looked at them. They looked, she thought, awfully official.

“They’re from the Palace!” Buttons whispered. His eyes shone excitedly. “Invitations to the Prince’s Birthday Ball!”

“Oh!” Cinderella reached out to touch the envelopes. She sighed. “A ball!”

“And you’ll be the Belle of it, Cinderella!” Buttons declared. He seemed to have entirely forgotten the upset of earlier, and jumped up eagerly.

“But…the Prince is a Prince!” Cinderella’s teeth bit down daintily against her fist. “And I’m just a lowly kitchen maid! And, oh Buttons, how will my Wicked Stepfamily ever let me go?”

Button’s face fell, just a little. But Cinderella barely noticed. “I would go wi-“ he began, but drew himself up quickly “I mean! You shouldn’t listen to them! They’re nasty old hags! And you…well, you have an invitation!”  
He held up one of the envelopes victoriously. “Can you imagine it, Miss Galinda? To dance at the ba-“

Buttons stopped. He blinked. For a moment he looked confused. No that…that wasn’t right. Was it? He glanced at Cinderella for help. She stared back at him blankly.  
“Oh, silly Buttons!” she said at last. But she sounded slow, uncertain. “Is that another friend of yours?

“I…I’m not sure…” Buttons replied, just as confused. He brightened suddenly. “Is it your second name?”

“I…don’t _think_ so…”

“…oh.”

There was another pause. Buttons coughed awkwardly. Suddenly he looked all wrong. Just as he had when he spoke about his dreams this morning. His arms prickled with Goosebumps. He looked as surprised as she did.

“Well…I…uh…I’ll just leave these here then!” he threw the envelopes down on the kitchen table, almost upsetting the milk jug. With a clumsy bow and a flutter of coat tails, Buttons bounded out the door and into the yard.

Cinderella watched him go. She giggled quietly to herself.

Oh, how _silly_ he was!


End file.
